


Echoing Where My Ghosts All Used to Be

by vonkrolock



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Diego Hargreeves-centric, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Post-Season 2, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, but no sparrow academy, i love ben so much, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonkrolock/pseuds/vonkrolock
Summary: Ben was always the best of them. And Diego had never understood why it had to be him to die. Sometimes, when he was younger and couldn’t process his grief, he had wished it was him, knew, somehow, that Reginald wished it was him, too. Nobody would have missed Number Two. Allison could sit closer to Luther during training. Klaus would still have a best friend. Dad would have someone useful. And he could be at peace, instead of living with the constant pain and grief of losing the only truly good person he knew.Or, Diego Hargreeves misses his brother.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Kudos: 45





	Echoing Where My Ghosts All Used to Be

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched the Umbrella Academy in like a week and got so obsessed I decided to write my first ever fanfiction about it. I hope you guys enjoy!

Leaning forward in his chair, absentmindedly twirling his knife, Diego choked back tears. He was glad he was alone, so no one would see him in such distress. Knowing that they were all upset and trying to readjust to life in 2019, after living scattered through the 1960’s and stopping two apocalypses, didn’t help him become comfortable with people knowing his feelings when he felt he had to be stronger than them. It was so much easier for his other siblings, like so many other things. Since coming back, Allison was loath to let anyone out of her sight, having just gotten everyone back together. Five, at a loss now that there were no more apocalypses, nothing to pour himself into, was less overt than Allison about his desire to be close to his siblings and his anxiety over losing them again, but he was always sitting on the edge of the room, staying as close as he knew how. It was difficult to ease back into a normal family life after decades of being alone, of constantly fighting, of constantly working. But at least Five was there.

It wasn’t that Diego didn’t want to be with his family. He did. He loved them all - even Luther - more than anything, and getting them back was a feeling of joy he had never known before. And yet he was holed away in his childhood bedroom, flipping his knife, the pain of 1963 following him to 2019. He would sneak back outside to his family when he was a little less upset, before anyone could even realize he was gone. But the conversation in the living room had turned to Ben, and he just couldn’t handle it. Maybe isolating himself wasn’t the best decision, though, he thought as he couldn’t escape the memories, bringing cascades of grief over him once again.

One time, when they were kids, he was awake late at night. Reginald had imposed a strict schedule on them, and staying up past bedtime was strictly prohibited, but Diego couldn’t sleep. Earlier, at training, he had gotten distracted and missed the target; Luther and Allison were giggling, and he heard Luther say his name as soon as he let the knife fly from his fingers, immediately losing focus as he tried to hear what his brother was saying about him. The brief break in focus landed his knife two inches to the right of the target, and he immediately turned red when he realized what he had done.

“Number Two,” he heard his father say behind him, disappointment dripping from his voice. Luther and Allison stopped talking, and Diego could feel all of his siblings’ eyes turn to him. Slowly, he turned around to face his father, wishing he could make himself smaller and escape the scrutiny and admonishment he knew he was about to receive. “Your powers, if they may be called that, already leave much to be desired. If you cannot even control something so insignificant, I don’t know what use I have for you.”

He wanted to talk back, wanted to tell his father that his powers were useful and that he was useful and that he could be so much better. But his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and his stomach churned. He knew if he even opened his mouth, nothing would come out but a jumbled, stuttered mess that would only vindicate his father’s views of him as stupid and useless and worthless. So he merely nodded and looked down as Reginald began to praise Luther.

So now, he was up, throwing knives around his room, trying to hit precise, difficult marks. His fingers ached after two hours of the practice, calluses forming on his fingers, but he didn’t pay any attention to the pain. It would all be worth it when Reginald realized that Diego was good and useful and could be his Number One.

A soft knock on his door startled him, and panic mounted in his chest, worried that he had been caught. But his father would never knock; he would walk right in, and what would he be doing on this side of the house anyway? He didn’t have time for that. And Mom was charging, so she wouldn’t be down here to give him away. He would have heard Pogo coming. So he cautiously opened the door to see Ben and Klaus on the other side. They were dressed to go out and carried backpacks.

“W-w-w-wh-wh,” Diego started, his brow furrowed in confusion, but Klaus interrupted him.

“What are we up to? Isn’t it obvious, we’re going out!” Klaus said, gesturing to his outfit and backpack.

“Let him finish, Klaus,” Ben said, shooting him a stern look. Diego’s ears turned red, but he was grateful for his brother. He was used to being interrupted, to never getting a full sentence out before someone answered his question or finished his sentence so they could talk. He knew Klaus didn’t mean anything by it; he was just impatient and a little self-involved, especially when he was excited about something. It wasn’t like the way Luther would laugh or mock him or try to show that this is why  _ he _ was Number One, and not Diego. How can he be a leader if he can’t even talk?

“Sorry,” Klaus mumbled.

“W-w-where are y-y-y-you g-g-g-go-go-ing?” Diego forced out, his stutter worse after such a long day. Ben offered him a soft smile, a real one of pride, not the pitying smile Vanya or Allison would give him. He hated the pity from Vanya the most, though. She was the ordinary one, she was the one who no one cared about, but  _ she _ pitied him?

“We’re going to Griddy’s, but we saw that your light was still on,” Klaus said.

“And we wanted to know if you wanted to come,” Ben said.

A grin spread across Diego’s face. It wasn’t often that he was invited out. It wasn’t often that anyone went out at all, but he was also the only one who didn’t have a best friend in the Academy. Allison and Luther always snuck off together, and Ben and Klaus were practically inseparable. Five didn’t really care for being friends, as such, with his siblings. And Vanya didn’t count. She never counted.

The Even Numbers Club was born that night over jelly donuts. 

A soft knock disturbed Diego out of his memories, and he sat up poker straight before telling whoever it was to come in. When he saw Klaus cautiously step inside, he sent a knife right past his head, anger swelling inside him.

“Hey, Diego, what the fuck?” Klaus asked, looking at the knife.

“W-w-w-why didn’t y-y-you tell us B-ben had travelled b-b-back too?” Diego asked, hating that his stutter had made a reappearance after all this time, but he was too angry to focus on picturing the word in his head. His voice got away from him whenever he was upset or tired, and he didn’t have it within himself to pull himself together.

“What are you talking about?” Klaus asked, backing away from his brother and eyeing his other knives warily.

“Y-y-you said that B-ben hadn’t m-m-m-made it b-back. But he did! And n-n-n-now he’s g-gone again, f-f-forever,” Diego shouted, his voice breaking in his last sentence. He tried so hard to bite back his tears, to keep them from falling in front of his brother, to keep them tucked away where no one could see, but he couldn’t. 

“Diego… I’m sorry. I, I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Klaus said, slowly approaching his brother once more, opening his arms for a hug. Under normal circumstances, Diego would have rejected it, but he just missed Ben so much. Maybe he could pretend it was Ben in Klaus’s body, and not just Klaus. As he wrapped his arms around his brother, he began to reluctantly cry. It was nothing like hugging Ben; he had felt nothing but pure joy to be reunited with his brother. He wished he hadn’t rushed away, but had stayed to drink in every moment they had together. He thought they would have so much more time. He thought they would be okay. And now he was left with nothing but regret for going back to bury Elliot when he could have stayed with his brother, who he had  _ just _ gotten back, and now he’s gone again.

Ben was always the best of them. And Diego had never understood why it had to be him to die. Sometimes, when he was younger and couldn’t process his grief, he had wished it was him, knew, somehow, that Reginald wished it was him, too. Nobody would have missed Number Two. Allison could sit closer to Luther during training. Klaus would still have a best friend. Dad would have someone useful. And he could be at peace, instead of living with the constant pain and grief of losing the only truly good person he knew. 

Klaus rubbed small circles on Diego’s back, carefully avoiding the knives, and didn’t say anything until his brother pulled away, rubbing his eyes and shaking a little.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t m-m-mean to…” Diego trailed off, gesturing to his face.

“I know. But you can. I get it. When I realized Ben wasn’t coming back, I almost threw myself back into all the drugs, anything to forget, you know. But I knew Ben wouldn’t have wanted it. And I’m just sorry that I was so selfish with him.”

“You had so m-much longer w-w-with him,” Diego said miserably.

“I know. But. I don’t know, you moved on, had a real life. And I don’t know, I had Ben. However selfish as it was, I just. I only had him,” Klaus said, and Diego softened.

He hadn’t even considered how Klaus must have felt, to lose his best friend, the only constant companion he had his whole life. After Ben died, Diego knew Klaus assumed he would always have Ben, as long as he could still see ghosts. Ben was the one thing that made his powers bearable. But now. Now, Klaus had nothing again.

“I’m sorry. I, I didn’t even th-think about how hard this m-must be for you,” Diego said, still upset but trying to pull himself back together.

“It’s okay. Nothing can ever be perfect, you know?” he said sadly.

Putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, Diego asked, “You wanna go to Griddy’s?”

They ordered an extra jelly donut out of habit and left it on the counter as a silent memorial.


End file.
